


A Quenching

by starcunning (Vannevar)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (this is hitting the floor in favor of a three-handed version of this scene), Constrained Fiction, Established Relationship, F/M, FDNH Apocrypha, First Do No Harm, Long-Distance Relationship, Mercy76, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Reaper76 - Freeform, and, in the background - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vannevar/pseuds/starcunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where is your wayward charge, anyway?”<br/>“Hitting the rack, if he knows what’s good for him.”<br/>“And you?”<br/>“I’m here.”<br/>“Do you have anything like privacy out there?”<br/>“I find I sleep better with a securely locked door between me and someone who may or may not have shot my—someone I care about.”<br/>“Mm. Mhmm. So…”</p>
<p>“So?”<br/>“What are you wearing?”<br/>“Hah! Doctor Ziegler. Didn’t know you had it in you.”<br/>“I don’t, much as I might desperately wish. So. Gabriel. Answer the question.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quenching

**Author's Note:**

> Answering this prompt: Write a story consisting only of dialogue. […] See if you can carry the action just through speech!

“So, listen…”  
“Commander.”  
“Huh?”  
“You will address me as ‘Commander.’ Especially if you think you want to ask me a question.”  
“Sure thing. So, listen, _Commander,_  when’re we gettin’ back to civilization?”  
“The way I see it, _vaquero,_ you didn’t exactly come from civilization to start with.”  
“Hah! Well, now, you just may have a point ’bout that. But I didn’t think you’d picked me up just to roll around the dusty ol’ desert with me, so I gotta ask, what are we doin’?”  
“Believe me, McCree, if it were my call, I would not be off in the middle of the Sonoran Desert with you.”  
“Not intendin’ to be contrary, but this is—”  
“Do I look like I give a shit?”  
“Well, pardon me.”  
“Stop asking stupid questions, learn what I’m trying to teach you, and we can both get the hell out of here. How about that.”  
“Yes _sir_ -ee.”  
“Lights out. You’re up at oh-five-hundred again tomorrow.”  
“You got it.”

“Hello?”  
“Hi. I miss you.”  
“What _time_  is it there?”  
“Mm. Early. Around six?”  
“Heh. Out here, we call that sleeping in.”  
“How is that going?”  
“He hasn’t shot anyone else, so there is at least that.”  
“I’m still not sure you can prove he shot _me,_  Gabriel.”  
“Does it really matter? We were in the field to deal with him and his. You got shot. I’d say he can shoulder the responsibility, whether he pulled the trigger or not.”  
“I’d say it should matter, yes. If he _did_  shoot me, it was to wound, and not all that gravely. Isn’t he some master marksman?”  
“So I’m told.”  
“You haven’t taken him to the range?”  
“I’m not putting a gun in his hand, Angela.”  
“But there is the distinct possibility he did _not_  shoot me.”  
“I mean—I guess?”  
“In which case it remains surpassingly unlikely that he in fact intends to shoot you, or any one of the rest of us.”

“Been up a while?”  
“No. Still in bed.”  
“Nobody should be so smart-mouthed before morning coffee.”  
“I seem to recall that you are.”  
“Hah! I didn’t take you for a fan of his, in any case.”  
“I’m not. I don’t think Overwatch should be offering clemency to arms dealers, much less recruiting them.”  
“Me either.”  
“But I can’t exactly transfer to Grand Mesa.”  
“You might be able to convince Ana, actually.”  
“I’m pretty sure she’s wise to us, Gabriel.”  
“If she is, she hasn’t said anything to me.”  
“Mm. She won’t. Where is your wayward charge, anyway?”  
“Hitting the rack, if he knows what’s good for him.”  
“And you?”  
“I’m here.”  
“Do you have anything like privacy out there?”  
“I find I sleep better with a securely locked door between me and someone who may or may not have shot my—someone I care about.”  
“Mm. Mhmm. So…”

“So?”  
“What are you wearing?”  
“Hah! Doctor _Ziegler_. Didn’t know you had it in you.”  
“I don’t, much as I might desperately wish. So. Gabriel. Answer the question.”  
“Shit. Give a guy some warning.”  
“I rather thought I had.”  
“Not much, anyway. It’s hot as blazes out here.”  
“‘Hot as blazes?’”  
“Oh, goddamn it. Stop laughing! As hell, then. BDUs. Black undershirt.”  
“You don’t imagine those are contributing to the problem?”  
“I suppose you want me to take them off?”  
“I don’t want you to do a single thing I don’t tell you to, Gabriel.”  
“It’s like that?”  
“If you’ll allow it.”  
“Hell _yes_  I’ll allow it, if you’ll let me ask a few questions …”  
“Go on …”  
“Where did you lay your body down last night, Angela?”  
“Jack’s.”  
“So isn’t he there to help?”  
“You aren’t interchangeable. That’s been made very clear to me. And I do miss you.”  
“Miss you too, girl. Didn’t I say so?”  
“Not yet.”  
“Well, there you go, then.”  
“His sheets still smell like you.”  
“It’s that bad, huh?”  
“Not at all.”  
“You missing me.”  
“Yes.”

“And what are you twisting up those sheets in? Do I get to know?”  
“I can tell you a sexy lie, or the somewhat more mundane truth.”  
“Truth’s good.”  
“Black cotton panties, UCLA tee shirt.”  
“Oh, the truth’s _very_  good.”  
“That … turns you on?”  
“It doesn’t always have to be lace, Ange.”  
“That’s good to know. What are you doing?”  
“Just laying here, listening.”  
“And where’s your other hand?”  
“Ha. On my stomach. I do know how to take orders.”  
“Among other things?”  
“What would you know about that?”  
“Nothing.”  
“But you’re just aching to find out.”  
“What’s that non-incrimination clause?”  
“The fifth.”  
“I’m taking that. And you, dear Gabriel, are taking your shirt off.”  
“Mm. So I am.”  
“I fully intend for you to make a mess, and it would be a shame to involve more clothing than is necessary. It’s hot there?”  
“They do call it a desert.”  
“I want to taste the salt from your skin, feel the heat and hardness of you against my lips.”  
“Do you want me to take my pants off?”  
“Mm-mm. Not there yet. It should be criminal, the thought of you half-stripped.”  
“This from someone rolling around my boyfriend’s bed in my college tee shirt.”  
“And nothing else, at this point.”  
“Shit…”

“You can unbutton your pants now. I want you to take yourself out. Are you hard for me?”  
“Have to be, talking like that. You’ve done this before?”  
“Mm. No. I used to be satisfied dating partners that didn’t fly halfway around the world on UN aircraft.”  
“Hah. Never? Can’t imagine you had much time in med school.”  
“You’d be right about that …”  
“No late nights in the on-call room?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. The on-call room is for hooking up.”  
“Is it still?”  
“It _is_  an honored medical tradition. Is there a cute attending you’re lusting after?”  
“I aim a bit higher, ha. Like the Chief Medical Officer.”  
“We’d have to find some way to keep you quiet, lest the whole Watchpoint find you out. Are you touching yourself?”  
“Not yet.”

“I want you to wrap one of those big hands around your cock.”  
“Hah. Is that the clinical term, Doc?”  
“It is if I say so, now, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“But just for that …”  
“Augh—”  
“You can do it slowly. You can lift your hand back up to your sternum and run those rough fingers over your chest, because I can’t, Gabriel, and your body just begs for touch. Doesn’t it?”  
“Yes. Yes. Yours, preferably.”  
“You are going to have to do it for me. I wish it were otherwise; that it was your hand slipped up under my shirt, and I were there to touch you. Soon, mm? But … for now … where’s your hand?”  
“Touching—hhh—my stomach. Fingers over my happy trail. Rather they were on you.”  
“In me.”  
“God, yes.”

“It’s not much like earlier, is it, your hand on your stomach?”  
“No. No, not much.”  
“Mmm … Keep with me, Gabriel. You sound …”  
“Like I’m coming apart?”  
“Exactly. God, it’s … I wish you were here, spilling all these words into my ear, but this will do for now. Your fingers are much thicker than mine, hm? So—they’d feel—different inside of me than mine do, but …”  
“Girl, you are … blowing my mind right now.”  
“Tell yourself it’s my hand on your prick—you can touch now—”  
“Guh. God. It is. Isn’t it?”  
“Isn’t it?”  
“Now. Like this. I’m yours, Angela, so my hand is—”  
“Mine. Yes. Good. Touch yourself for me. Close your eyes and listen, and. And fuck your fist the way you’d fuck me, if I were there; god, I want to be there.”  
“Shit. Mm. What’s that?”  
“Toy. Sorry—is it loud?”  
“Mm-mm. Just envious. I want to touch you—your clit, I want to put my mouth on you. Angela …”  
“Hmm?”  
“I want your knees locked around my head, burying my face in your—”  
“ _Say it._ ”  
“In your pussy. I want to taste you. I want to make you come.”  
“I’m close.”  
“Let me hear you. Please. Please; God, I need to hear you.”  
“I want you to come with me, Gabriel. I want you to say my name while it splashes on your stomach. I want to lick it up, your come off your hard body. I want to kiss you and make you taste yourself, I …”  
“Please, you have to let me—”  
“Come for me; I— _scheisse, Gabriel._ ”  
“Angela—fuck. Angela…”

“Mmm. Still there?”  
“I’m here. I …”  
“Mm-hmm. You should get cleaned up. I wish I could help, but …”  
“But you’re in Spain.”  
“Not technically.”  
“It is still way too early for that smart mouth.”  
“It isn’t, and you know it. I think you’re rather fond of my smart mouth.”  
“Along with the woman it’s attached to.”  
“I do miss you; that wasn’t a line.”  
“I miss you, too.”  
“When will you be back?”  
“When it’s safe.”  
“Mm. Are you going to sleep, now?”  
“Like a rock, I imagine.”  
“Dream of me.”  
“If it were up to me …”  
“Good night, Gabriel.”  
“Good—morning? Right? Have a good day, Angela.”  
“Mhmm. Goodbye.”  
“Bye.”

“I love you.”


End file.
